The Nature of Being a True Fan

There is a certain code to live by that makes being a sports fan a meaningful experience. It can be a difficult code to follow in hard times because it involves making an emotional attachment to a program, and linking your fortunes with theirs. It is because of that attachment and because there is the potential to suffer with your team that makes the enjoyment of winning so much more intense when you are lucky enough to experience it. You have to suffer with something to truly be a fan of it. You have to be tested, and you have to remain loyal when the temptation of being one of the throngs who regardless of geography or alma mater flock to the most successful blue blood program  or worse to Kobe or Lebron. If you are ever to earn the right to celebrate a teams accomplishments with pride then you must experience more than just a championship run. You have to be there on cold February days when conference road games take their toll. You might have to sit through an NIT or even CBI game, you have to watch players leave the court in March in tears knowing that they gave you 4 great seasons and you will never get to watch them again. You have to experience all of the highs and the lows to earn a meaningful affiliation.

It occurred to me yesterday when I was sitting in the Convocation Center watching my two mid major alma maters battle it out in a game that would determine 3rd place in the MAC West that this game had more meaning to me than the previous weeks Duke/North Carolina game could have had to most of the chattering, blue clad masses in the Dean Smith Center or watching on ESPN, because I am vested. I spent three years of my life in Kalamazoo and watched the Broncos 10+ times a season since the day I set foot on that campus, I’ve spent the last 4 years in Ypsilanti going to every EMU home game I can. The highlights of rooting for middle of the road to bad mid major teams are not plentiful, but they are far more memorable than any Final Four could be for the team I might have arbitrarily chosen to root for.

This might strike some as a bitter rant. I certainly don’t mean for it to. I root for Eastern Michigan, Western Michigan, Georgetown and Michigan State. I have degrees from Eastern and Western, and followed Michigan State since an early age. I do not mean to imply that you must attend a school to root for the basketball team. I think it should be your first loyalty and I absolutely resent the notion that you should cast aside your personal affiliation just because the athletic program isn’t as high a profile as the larger state school. I do recognize that some people make an attachment early in life and it stays with them regardless of where they went to school. I absolutely get that and for the most part can respect it. The so called fans that I can’t abide by are the guys that root for the top team, top player, or top tradition and want to revel in that success. These are the parasites that latch on to the biggest thing they can find to try and share in their success.

Classic example is this clown who sat near us at last years championship game:

This guy was the most vocal person in our section. He was more animated in his support of the North Carolina Tarheel’s than Tyler Hansborough’s parents (I know this because as the game got more and more out of hand I kept an eye on both just to have something to take my mind off things). He didn’t even care enough about the team to ever buy a t-shirt. He did care enough to put on his best Carolina Blue Rocawear jacket and matching Carolina Blue Old English D hat, and try to taunt Spartan fans in our section. He liked to declare things over and jump out of his seat for dunks. I liked to yell “Go Rocawear” every time he did, because I have zero respect for guys like this. If he had an equally unaffiliated friend who was wearing green and white Fubu and had a green and white yankee hat it would be different. But this tool was trying to banter with real fans who were watching their team play for the highest stakes out there. It was completely inappropriate, and no matter how much he tried to pretend to celebrate afterwords it was clearly unauthentic and meaningless. He was out there watching a TV show, I was watching a team/program that I had been following since I was in 3rd grade, other people were watching a team/program that represented the school where they spent years of their lives, a place where they had chosen a career path, met a spouse, etc… it just wasn’t balanced.

My philosophy is simple and fair. There is nothing wrong with liking a team. You can like a team without being a true fan. I like Georgetown. I root for Georgetown, watch them when I can, know who their players and coaches are, and read about them. I like their tradition, I like that they win at an elite level without taking dirty BCS football money, and I just plain enjoy watching them play. I am a true fan of Western Michigan. This is because I can’t walk away when the program is down, or when we have a tough loss. If Georgetown starts a long slide it won’t bother me that much, I’ll just root for Seton Hall or something. If Western Michigan starts/continues to slide I’ll get pissed, want the coach fired, call Ball State cheaters, want to build a new arena, drink more, etc… I can’t walk away from “my team”. If you don’t have a team you can’t just pick one up overnight . You have to earn the right to call a team yours through time and energy expelled watching, hoping, and sometimes being disappointed. Until such time as you become a true fan of a team you should be respectful of true fans and never try to equate your loss affiliations with their real passions. If some tool at BW3s who grew up in the same town as I did, went to community college, grew up rooting for the Fab-5 and then Michigan State when Izzo became dominate, and has never lived outside of Metro Detroit, sits next to me to watch Kentucky play WMU in the tournament this March (I can dream), he better not pump his fist and try to talk shit to me if Kentucky is beating up on Western Michigan just because he really likes Wall, and Bledsoe. He doesn’t matter, his thoughts don’t matter, and his happiness is just a meaningless front, because to him, sports don’t matter. I’d rather watch a game with some crusty old Kentucky fan from the hill country who has a picture of Adolph Rupp in his rec room if he is a true fan of his team. Because at least that guy gets it.